Floater
by lillelouis
Summary: A story about the two men we all love. So without further ado, interruptions, chapter cliff-hanger endings, or infomercials let us begin. Rated T for words.


**Author's Note:** I posted this before, but it was removed on account of an offensive title. So I changed the title :D

**Author's Note 2/introduction/disclaimer:** Won't even try to hide that this was inspired by Drag Me To Hell.

This is a story about the two men we all love. The two men who time and again save the world as we know it, or perhaps a darker and slightly more apocalypse-influenced version of it. The men who were raised in the midst of a storm of adversity, only to become better heroes than we deserve. I am of course talking about Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler. The brothers in bond who travel across the nation in search of people in need. The two, lone wolves who share a passion for ghosts and all things Joss Whedon. Who seek to correct injustices wherever they may find them. Oh and the Winchesters make an appearance as well.

But slap me thrice lest I forget: I have the supreme pleasure of introducing yet another bunch of rugrats into this, already slightly shuffled bag of treats. Namely the Freakylink'ers. That's right, you heard me. The show that got way too little credit. Only ran for one season, though it should've gone on far longer if you ask me.

So without further ado, interruptions, chapter cliff-hanger endings, or infomercials let us begin. I present to you:

* * *

Floater

...or

Shit Floats

**Siemens Water Technologies**

**East Washington Blvd**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Morning…**

She wakes up that morning like she does every morning, with Todd beside her and a paralyzing desire to stay in bed. It's five am and she really wishes she could just call in sick.

But as usual she takes a moment to picture life bereft of a job with health benefits and changes her mind. She gets up, throws on clothes, makes coffee, and drives to work. Parks in the designated employee parking spaces, walks to the dressing room and pulls on her overalls. Puts on her hardhat and clocks in.

She greets Lloyd as he passes. He smiles like he does every morning. Sometimes she thinks he likes the smell of human waste. She sure can't see any other reason he might be smiling. It's grey out, a light rain drizzling down, creeping in through the cracked windows. The wide space and heavy machinery – lack or air-con – makes the temperatures ridiculously low. This would be the perfect place to dispose of a corpse, she thinks as she does her rounds. Checking on gages and turning on turbines. Just throw them in the tanks, let the germs dissolve them into pieces of meat.

The bulk of waste water – or in other words, pot of crap – starts whumping inside the massive turbine as the pistons fire and begin to propel forth the substance. Not that it's really stirring, or that the tank is shaped like a pot, but the mental image help her get through the day. Pushes the water through the debris filter and into pipes for further purification.

She sits back and waits for the gages to rise to the green field, then flicks off a couple of booster switches. Sighs when nothing out of the ordinary happens. The sound of sloshing feces, filtering through the noises of big machines and rippling water. Pipes groaning at the pressure.

She shuts the lid on the switchboard and jots down the gage readings on her chart. Rubs a bruise on her shoulder and reminds herself to never again drink on weekdays.

A shudder runs through her when a cold gust of air rushes through the hall. She looks around. There's no sound except for the rumbling and groaning of engines and water rushing through pipes. Only her own breathing which is oddly loud. The light tap of water against glass in the distance.

She turns and takes in the grey concrete structure. The turbine is painted bright red so not to confuse it with anything else. A joke from high up management no doubt. She sticks her chart under her arm and makes her way to the employee lounge for some breakfast. Nothing to do for the next hour or so. The station runs on a skeleton crew anyway. The real work is over in Research. Work for which she is in no way qualified.

One good thing about her job, though, is the food. Not that anyone here ever has any appetite because of the slight, yet ever-present stench. A giant toilet basically.

She stops when a metallic clank cuts through the normal sounds. "Hello?" Her voice booms out amidst the concrete pillars and steel pipes. When no one answers she starts walking again. Freezes when a new sound reaches her. Definitely someone there.

Maybe someone's lost. Or those damn kids have gotten in again or one of the scientists or maintenance temps. The security isn't great – basically shit: The substance this entire place is dedicated to removing from water. Why waste tax dollars on top of the line alarm systems. The only alarms that matter are the ones on machines. If something breaks down they need to know.

She looks around, gripping her clipboard tighter.

A rippling whisper echoes and she thinks one of the pipes might have sprung a leak. Goes to check and frowns when she sees a sticky substance over one of the pressure-release valves. She frowns at the foul stench and picks out a pen.

Sticking it into the black ooze, and pulling it back. It's stringy. She frowns harder. Damn filter's probably ripped. Leaking sludge it's supposed to contain. This will really make her day suck. She wipes the soiled pen on her overalls, because really she smells like rotten eggs anyway at the end of every day.

The pen goes back in her shirt pocket and she calls Paul, their technician, to get down there and take a look at it.

As soon as she hangs up she feels a chill stronger than before. She turns when suddenly she slips and falls. Slamming her hardhat into the concrete, slipping out of it. She lays there, dazed for a moment. Then flinches when a cackle echoes through the whooshing and whumping of machines and water. The sound is in such contrast that she's struck by fear. Just barely enough to make her take notice.

She gets up and sees shadows dancing across the pipes. Pulls herself to her feet with one hand on the pipe, screams when she accidentally gets stuck in the black ooze. It feels like it's sucking her hand into it. The stench makes her vomit as she struggles. Puke spews onto the floor – mingles with whatever she slipped in – but she hardly stops to take notice. Struggling to pull free of whatever crap's got her hand.

She succeeds with a slightly nervous "Ha ha" and scrambles back to stare at it a moment. It's bubbling. She looks at her hand before she freaks out and tries to wipe it off on her suit, only partially successful.

The cackle sounds again and she looks around, now thoroughly freaked out. Panic is making her heart pound like a rabbit in a tumbler. Her breathing is fast and forced. She damn near turns to stone when a shadow steps free of the pipes and advances.

She's never felt true horror, but the slow advance of darkness and claws pushes her right into it.

She stops breathing all together and just stares. The thing in the shadow pulls itself forth by its long claws. The only part of it with any form, she thinks. More like smoke really.

But in a second she blinks, hears Paul's voice, flinches, turns and sighs. When she looks back everything is normal.

* * *

**Inglewood**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Three weeks later…**

"Ed." A drawn out sigh.

"Harry?"

"Ed." Insistent.

"Harry,"

"Spock does _not_ beat lizard." He's right. He knows he is.

"It so totally _does_-"

"Did you not read the rule-book I sent you?"

"I _did_," Ed shrieks. "Spock poisons lizard and smashes scissors."

"No. Spock evaporates rock and smashes scissors. The lizard poisons _him_." For _once_ he's right. He knows it.

Ed sighs. "No, man. It says so right here… that-" He subsequently pulls out the handbook and is now reading what will be sure to turn Harry into a total douchebag the rest of the week. "Oh crap."

"HA!" A point and a smug expression later has Ed regretting showing up for work today. "I _told_ you lizard beats Spock. Oh wait a minute…"

He makes a face to go with the deuchy behavior, in answer to which Ed grimaces.

"That means I win."

"Yes, Harry. It means you win." he deadpans. How did he not see this coming? He likes to think it's because he's stopped dicking around on random websites, unlike his infantile friend. His friend, who's currently clipping paperclips to his tongue. He likes to think it has something to do with losing Corbett. Something to do with that TOSH that broke into his garage as well. Likes to think of himself as emotionally evolved since that whole…thing. The two and a half years he's had to put it behind him, properly process it. A lot of things have changed.

For example they finally have the funding for the expansion he and Harry had planned since forming Ghostfacers. With Maggie's new part time job they've rented a small, but _real_ office. Well they have to share it with a bunch of computer geeks from some college or whatever. Also it's not a real office. It's a warehouse, but they're incorporated now. Investors and all.

Sorta.

Well the twenty bucks Harry's mom shoved in the gas jar after Harry nagged her for it. But Spruce's bought some really cool shit for recording paranormal activity with the money he's earned from the golf club. Some shit he said won't fritz out whenever a ghost is near, Ed can't remember the name. Also they've learned their lesson since the Morton House. Always back up your work, has become Ed and Harry's new favorite motto.

Oh and they've got two new interns.

Plus the college computer geeks are all really into the supernatural when they aren't working on fixing the universe, or whatever. They help out with the digital stuff. The new website was largely made with their help. Not that Ed will _ever_ admit it, or they'll just want money. Vultures.

* * *

**Westbound through Beverly Hills**

**Los Angeles, CA**

**Heading for I405 South. **

**Evening…**

Dean's doubtful. "You think it's for real?"

"The curse?"

"Yeah,"

Sam frowns in that patented way he only he can. "Might be. Talked to Josh who said that there were…some _pretty_ obvious signs of demonic activity."

"Like what?"

Sam gropes for the papers he's collected. "Like…the three car crashes in the last two days, the four missing children reports, and the twenty two animal attacks-"

"Wow."

"And last but not least the mysterious weather in the area."

"All in the last week." Dean nods.

"Yup."

He keeps nodding. They're driving down Burton Way, the sun's shining and Sam's pretty sure_ Barbra Ann_ is playing in ever shop they pass. "So why the weird feeling?"

Dean shrugs. "Paranoia, maybe?"

"Told you to stop watching late-night Twilight Zone reruns."

"Wasn't TZ."

"No?" Sam doesn't really care, but has learned long ago that even partial attention will be enough to deduce full meaning.

"Rerun of Poltergeist." Sam doesn't see Dean's smile. He stops for a red light. "Is that the Beach Boys?"

"It's everywhere." he sighs.

Dean quirks a brow. "I thought _you_ _liked_ the Beach Boys?"

Sam spares two seconds, dislodging from his search of the missing file that he's sure will provide the ultimate clue to help break their current case, to glare at Dean.

"Well not _like_ like, but you know…living in Cali for a while," He starts bobbing his head, turning back to the road. "groovin' with the locals? Just figured there'd be a lot of Beach Boys going around."

"Dean, we didn't get high." Sam and he have had this conversation before.

"I know," His voice brightens on _know_.

"I went to _Stanford_," Sam says as if that should be explanation enough.

Dean is still confused, not to mention skeptical, but decides he doesn't really wanna hear the rest of his brother's explanation if he can at all avoid it. And so, returning attention to the road, he makes a mental note to buy a CD of the Beach Boys before they leave. "I know."

* * *

**Ghostfacers Lair**

**W 96'th St**

**Inglewood**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Afternoon…**

"So, Clara." Ed does his very best imitation of Rod Serling. Sure the lady is not downright unattractive, but a far cry from what he'd ever consider dating-material. Which is why he's a little surprised her boyfriend's so butch and all. "You're possessed?"

Clara nods. She looks jittery. Her man-meat boyfriend turned punching-bag puts his arm around her. He's got a nasty bruise around his left eye. Looks like a sheepdog. "Clara and I have had a rough time." Meaning she probably beats him in her sleep.

Ed nods like he understands. Because he's supposed to understand. He's supposed to care about what happens to these poor people. He's _not_ supposed to suggest a good battered men's shelter to poor Todd. "Why is it you think you're possessed?" Harry looks like he's taking notes, but Ed honestly doesn't know.

Clara glances at Todd. "Well," She points feebly.

Ed isn't so convinced. She's almost as butch as Todd. If only a little less hairy. "Well possession usually has more trademarks than that." Yeah, they've done their homework this time. Bigger game. Or…really it's the computer guys who dug out the lore on demonic possession. Did it in return for a sit in while they try to exorcise Clara. The geeks are working on their finals and need a "project".

Amateurs.

But still. Free labor. Ed doesn't complain. Well actually he does. But he shouldn't.

"The damn tech-kids touched my stuff again-" Spruce looks up at the meeting he's interrupted. "Ed…uh?"

"Later, Spruce!" Harry holds up a hand which quickly makes the part Jewish, part Cherokee, part degenerate alcoholic back out of the private "office". The main "office" is really more of a storage area than anything. Used to be an old car manufacturer or some such. Ed hadn't really listened to what the landlord said.

On the other side of the glass walls Spruce sees the lead techie sitting in front of his computer. Showing off to his friends. Probably doing something incredibly interesting…_not_.

"Uh, dude,"

"Spruce, my main man!" He raises a hand and really, Spruce can't _not_ slap it. "How's it hangin'?"

"Uh, you touched my stuff…Derek and I told you…that's not cool, man."

Derek turns, puts on an apologetic expression. "Aw, man, I'm sorry." He slides his chair so Spruce can get a good look at the computer. "All I did was a reconfiguration of the driver sequence for a faster upload. Needed the make and model to swing it."

Spruce looks at the digital recorder in question. "It's a camera, man. Can't reprogram it."

Derek looks up from whatever game he's playing. Smiles. "The driver sequence for the computer." His smile grows. "You know, for the plug-in?" He turns back.

Spruce looks at the camera and back to Derek. "Just… don't touch my stuff, man."

Derek detaches from the game, which is not a game at all, but a CCTV clip of possible freak-situation in Beaver County. Not that Spruce notices the difference. "…Sure." But he's not sure. Not sure why he's upset when all Derek did was improve on the already wicked piece of equipment.

"What was that about?" Chloe sits down on a vacant office chair and slides it over next to Derek after Spruce leaves.

"Dunno, but something about this case's got'em worked up."

"They think it's a demon." she concludes, as if that explains everything.

"Yeah and they think we're college students."

Chloe smiles. "I could be in college."

Derek looks at her with a grin. That she could. Still looks like the day he first met her. The crowfeet around her eyes are a little more visible, but she still has that smile. The smile of her youth. They all do despite the knocks they've taken over the years. That innocence. He hopes they never lose it.

* * *

**Non-descript motel**

**Crenshaw**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Same afternoon…**

"So this chick?" Dean looks through the files Sam's dug up. He's not really interested. One thing that hasn't changed much over the years, in a variable sea of changes, is how much Sam likes to talk and how much Dean dislikes reading.

"Clara Peete." Sam is clicking away on his computer, searching for something Dean isn't privy to.

"She the winner of the week?"

"Appears so. Lives in Huntington Park with her boyfriend Todd. Works at Siemens Water Technologies. A purification facility in the city."

"Sounds normal. How'd she get mixed up with a curse?"

Sam looks up. "Guess we'll have to ask _her_ that."

* * *

**973 Stafford Ave**

**Huntington Park**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Still same afternoon…**

She looks insecure as hell as she sits there. Looking from Sam to Dean. Her boyfriend's out which actually works to their advantage. Leaves her a bit more receptive to Sam and Dean's special brand of interrogation.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Her boss gave her the week off after she had a meltdown in the facility.

"Just," Sam wants to sigh. Wants so desperately to sigh. "Has anything…out of the ordinary happened?" He knows what he's looking for if this chick would just comply the tiniest bit and tell him.

She shrugs.

Dean's gone dangerously still. They're on their second cup of tea with no progress. At least until Dean notices the fading bruise on Clara's face and stealthily alerts his brother to the same. A conversation is carried out with nothing but looks. Dean tells Sam to check the bruise on her neck. Sam says he's already seen it. Dean asks if he doesn't find it a bit strange? Sam says yes obviously, and then has the exact same thought his brother's already had. While figuring it out for himself, Dean tells him to ask her. Sam says no, that Dean can do it himself. Dean insists. Sam surrenders and says:

"Uh, where'd you get that?" He points to the area on his own neck.

She touches hers as if to confirm he's not talking about something on himself. "I uh," She looks up. Confusion seems to be her default setting, if Dean's any judge. "I got in a fight."

Dean arches a brow, partly in appreciation, partly morbid curiosity. "Who with?"

"Whom." Sam corrects and almost earns a slap on the face.

"These girls who were hitting on Todd."

Clearly this woman doesn't have that many physical attributes to gamble with, but she seems a far cry from the kind of gal who'd get in a fight. "And did you start it?"

Sam looks at Dean like he's being too crass. The older Winchester communicates that his brother should keep his trap shut and let him continue his questioning. Sam disagrees, silently. Sits back and broods.

Clara half shakes her head. "I was-" She looks at Sam as if asking for permission to speak. He nods at her to continue. "I was pretty drunk."

"Did you know the girls?" he asks, leaning forward, looking deep into her eyes as if he can suck out all her confusion with a single look.

Dean rolls his eyes.

"Y-Yeah…"

Dean rolls his hand, suggesting he'll need her to embellish.

Clara turns back to him, generously being released from Sam's puppy-tractor-beams. "They live near the facility. Not far from the bar."

"Where exactly?" Dean demands.

Sam rolls in and tries to smooth it over. "Could you show us on a map?" As if the task of forming intelligent thought might somehow be too taxing for her.

She nods, jerkily, as Sam wordlessly tells Dean he thinks he should get the map from the car. Dean calls him the asshole which he is, but leaves the two alone. He returns, LA area map in hand. He puts it down in front of the girl and swears he can she her confusion shoot up a notch at the thought of holding the pen. He closes his eyes and reminds himself that it's not nice to slap civilians.

After about ten minutes of gentle tutelage from Sam she's circled the area where her mystery girls live and allegedly hang out. Meaning the bar, meaning they could've just gotten directions and been on their way fifteen minutes ago. Meaning Dean was right and is gonna punk his brother about it the rest of the hunt.

He practically sprints from the house in his desire to escape. "What you say we check out this area while there's still light, then check out the bar tonight?"

"Sure." Sam sighs as he slips back into their latest "borrowed" car. He misses Baby more than he wants to admit.

* * *

"**The Can" off S Santa Fe Ave**

**Boyle Heights**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Evening…**

Maura likes this bar. It's rustic. Not quite what she's used to, but she senses a lot of gentle spirits in here. It's rowdy, which was what attracted her attention in the first place. The bar is hardwood and the 'tender an overweight male in his late forties. Yeah, she definitely likes this place.

At least until the door opens and a cold chill travels down her spine. Shapeless, violet velour jacket shivering with her twitch. Drinking her Pimm's Cup, looking over the crowd, she tries to pinpoint the cause of her shiver. The spirits in this place seem both frightened and energized all of a sudden. They twitter about with the new arrival.

A young woman and her friends. But the woman is definitely the one who's upset the spirits so. She walks tall. Wearing very little clothes. A red, sparkly, stringy top over pleather pants and, oddly enough, muddy hiking boots. Plastic jewelry and flattened hair, tied up in some kind of ponytail. Extensive bangs.

Maura remembers the style as the rage in the '90's. She thought humanity got past that period. She self-consciously straightens her lose dress and shifts on her seat. And somehow, like a moth to the flame, the young woman notices her, smiles and turns to gossip with her friends. Maura looks around uncertainly to see if others noticed. It doesn't appear so.

She pulls her dinner jacket tighter around her stomach, hiding behind it. This is why she prefers spirits to humans. The spirits are always grateful to be noticed. Humans seem too judgmental and mean. She frowns and pulls back when a man walks close by her, not a glance in her direction. She turns back to the woman who's now being approached by another young man. The two seem to be hitting it off.

The strangers, because Maura feels quite certain they _are_ in fact strangers to each other, lean into one another. Looks like they've been soul mates in another life. Maura envies them a little though she'd never admit it. She envies the easy way with which the man leans close, touching her every chance he gets. She sighs deeply when a shiver runs up her body. A kind of warm tingle.

The spirits are restless.

Across the bar she suddenly notices another man staring at her. He's tall, dark and handsome. Reminds her so much of Chris Banks from high school – whom she secretly crushed on for almost three years – that she blushes. The man smirks and starts walking. He can't possibly be heading to _her_. She looks around. Hugs her dinner jacket tighter and straightens. Pimm's Cup clutched between suddenly sweaty palms. Nervously fingering her scarf.

But the man stops right beside her. "Hi." His voice is very nice. Like Chris used to talk to the cheerleaders. He smiles.

She can't help but smile back. Melting a little in her seat, swallowing and breathing deeper through her nose. "Hi." She holds out her hand. The advantage of being older is experience, she tells herself. She's not undesirable, she's just discerning.

The man smiles a little wider and angles his body towards hers. His presence is really upsetting the spirits. They're all dancing, some wailing, around her. The energy has changed from cool to electric. "I'm Maura." She feels introductions are important.

"Sam." His smile widens again and she thinks she might dissolve.

A small sound escapes her slack mouth and she is almost literally melting off her chair. Everything feels loose. "What are you doing here, Sam?" It's what she's supposed to ask. All the movies say so.

His smile vanishes and is replaced with a very intense expression. The spirits have all gone quiet. She listens, but hears nothing. He leans in. "I'm just wondering why you're watching my brother."

He's not the same as before, and she feels a little manipulated. He smiled and made her think… "Who?" Suddenly his presence feels imposing. He's in her space and not leaving.

He glances quickly over his shoulder to the guy who's talking to the young woman. "I wasn't watching _him_." Maura doesn't know where this courage comes from, but wants at least to explain and hope he leaves her alone.

He does, or he backs off at least. Frowns. "Who then?" He's almost whispering now. The spirits are beginning to stir. They feel sluggish.

"The girl." Maura nods towards the young woman who is being royally pampered by the man who's apparently "Sam's" brother.

"Do you know who she is?" The anger has all but left him, and it's only now that it dawns on Maura that's what it was. Her fear of this kid ups a notch and she's not sure why.

"No," she whispers. She's only been here half an hour. Not really her scene.

Somehow her mental monologue reaches him and he backs off with a slight smirk. Apologetic. "Who are you?"

She can't stop looking at him. "Maura." She already told him that.

"You already told me that."

She swallows. This kid definitely isn't normal, but neither is his brother because when she looks over he's leaving with the brunette in tow. Sam doesn't turn, but somehow she figures he knows. He smirks again. Something he's quite good at, she decides. "I'm just getting a drink." She turns her Cup.

He tilts his head. "Why did you come here tonight?"

She shrugs. Does he know what she is? She decides it can't hurt, and tells him. "I'm a conduit."

He frowns. "A psychic?"

She nods and wonders how much time has passed since the last time she looked at her surroundings. His eyes feel like black holes and she wouldn't be surprised if time stops completely when he's the only one in the room with you. "I just felt like coming here tonight. Drove past it and wanted a drink." It's not that abnormal and practically every other shop owner in LA is a psychic. It's a growing industry. Unfortunately only a few of them are the real deal.

"What did you see about the girl?"

"Nothing." For someone so interested he doesn't know a lot about psychics. "I'm a _conduit_."

He frowns.

She holds up a hand. "Doesn't work at a distance."

"You see the future?"

"No," She hesitates. "I'm not a prophet." She frowns. "What are _you_?" She wants to grab his hand. Just for a little bit. Sneak a peek. But he backs away.

"I'm here for the girl." Only now does he look back towards the door. Her two friends are wondering where she went. He looks ready to head them off if they decide to go check on their her.

"I think she's a psychic too."

That draws his attention. She likes it. Feels confident when he looks at her like that. "What?"

"Not like me and probably not even aware of it, but the spirits see her."

"Spirits?" He frowns and she practically feels like his mentor now.

"They're all around us. Even in here." She looks around briefly before turning back to him. "Even around you."

That has him retreating further. Obviously she's struck a nerve. She fills with a hesitant kind of audacity. Feels a little more in control now. He backs away. Doesn't even say goodbye. Just looks at her like he's creeped out. She swallows and darts nervous eyes around the room before coming back to his retreating form. Hardly a soul notices as he quietly slips out the door. She can't help feel dejected.

Dean's outside, having dropped all pretenses of picking up the girl. Instead he's got her pressed against the wall of the back of the bar. Looking for all intent and purposes like he's gonna rape her. Sam arrives to the last of his threat.

"-isten, freak, I wanna know what the hell you did to Clara Peete." He spots Sam. So does the girl. She looks scared and pissed. She shoves him. Dean shoves back.

Sam arches a brow.

"I did _nothing_." Her voice has a slight accent. "The bitch attacked me!"

Dean looks like he's about to take a swing and Sam kinda glides in between them. "Whoa," Pushes Dean back, facing the girl. He looks down her smaller frame, still pressed against the wall, and that's when he spots it. Silver pendant around her neck. "Where did you get that?"

She follows his gaze and smirks.

"Was it a gift from someone in your family?"

"Touch me and you'll see."

He's gotta admit, the accent is kinda cute. Also he thinks it's a little eastern European. He smiles. "Your grandma?" It's always the grandma.

She stops smirking. _Yahtzee_. He glances back at Dean. "Gypsies." Dean growls and mutters something incoherent. Probably a curse. She scoffs. Doesn't look at all frightened anymore. Probably knows she doesn't have any reason to be. "What did she do?"

She shrugs, looking away.

"If we're dealing with a gypsy curse-" Dean cuts off behind him. Turning away again, cussing.

Sam keeps staring at the girl. "Did you grandmother curse Clara?"

The girl then looks at him with a vicious smile. Sticks out her chin in the smuggest way. Sam has all the answer he needs.

"If this is a gypsy curse we can't break it." he says to finish his brother's thought. He nods when she ups her chin again. She doesn't look inclined to back down. "We need your grandmother for that."

Dean stops pacing behind him, having found the needle and is back to trying to thread it. "We squeeze grandma enough she might lift it." He looks at the girl. "Might need leverage."

Sam smiles, eagerly playing into his brother's game. "Not a lot though."

"Nah, a finger, a hand. Something small enough that we don't have to hand-deliver it." He barks. "Get it."

The girl's looking a lot less secure now. "Still don't wanna help?" Sam plays good cop as is his forte.

Her eyes dart between Sam and Dean until her shoulders drop.

* * *

**SC Mobile Sounds trailer park**

**Vernon**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Evening…**

Mami Rosa isn't all that surprised to see two, tall strangers with her granddaughter. The girl is a spitfire even in her sleep. The temperament she gets from her father. The surprising twist is when she sits down in front of Rosa and introduces the two strangers.

"Mami," she says. "These two men would like to know about the curse you put on Clara."

"Who?" Rosa looks up from her tea. How dare they interrupt her at such a holy moment? This late at night? Her little girl just comes barging in, not showing any respect for her elders. And Mami Rosa is especially annoyed since the last time she saw said granddaughter was right after the attack. Not a word before that for five months.

"We know you cursed Ms. Peete and we want you to lift it."

Mami Rosa grimaces. It was just a small curse, but the bitch had it coming after touching her _nepata_. "No one hurts my family." She sips the tea.

Sam almost smiles with a very quick glance at Dean. He looks back at the old woman – and by old he means leathery-relic-of-a-once-humanoid-creature-now-red uced-to-bones-and-clanking-jewlry-_old_. But still. He suspects she's got a great sense of humor. "And we get that," he interrupts before Dean can talk through his ass. If there's even the slightest chance he and his brother are walking out of there without some kind of jinx on them he'll count himself lucky.

Not to mention Dean's offhanded comment earlier about keeping his pockets to himself. Sam wonders how Mami Rosa would react to the implication that all Romas steal.

"I'd kill anything that hurt my brother." He misses the look Dean gives him. The quick expression of complete and sugary love. "And I don't want this to escalate." He holds out his hands in a pleading gesture.

If Dean had his way they'd just drop a homemade firebomb on Mami Rosa's trailer, but Sam insisted. If they can befriend – well…_not_ kill – witches, surely one little gypsy woman won't be too much trouble. "We just want the curse lifted." He knows begging her probably won't work, and Dean is starting to get that, but Sam has another trick up his sleeve. "She shouldn't be punished for a child's mistake."

Though he doesn't look at Mami Rosa's granddaughter Mami Rosa gets it and does. She spears her child's child with a deadly glare. "I must protect my family." she says and Sam is a little worried that Dean doesn't seem the least bit upset. He's just itching to get his hands on some propane. He sighs and knows it can't come to that. They have enough problems without blowing shit up.

"I understand." He waits for her to look up, knowing he still rocks the puppy eyes even in his thirties. Dean doesn't even need to _see_ them to know they're being employed. Behind him he rolls his eyes as Mami Rosa softens. "But, maybe there's a way the two could work it out themselves?"

Mami Rosa's resolve is crumbling. She grumbles. Do they have any idea how long it took to set it all up? The child practically begging her _mami_ to put one tiny little curse on the woman who beat her senseless.

"Maybe ask your granddaughter why she got in the fight in the first place?" Because Sam knows this girl is trouble and if Clara Peete thought the girl was making moves on Todd she'd no doubt have put all those hauntingly masculine features to use. Sam thinks he can still see some of the bruises on the girl. Doesn't mean Clara deserves to die.

And then the shit hits the fan. "_Dar Mami_," she squeals. "_Ea batut draco 'din mine_!" The screeching climbs to almost painful.

Sam is a little intrigued. Behind him Dean is cringing. Not many people has heard of the Roma language, let alone heard it spoken. Bobby would be thrilled, he realizes bitterly.

Mami Rosa grimaces even fiercer. "Echh…" A little spittle rains out. "_Taci_!" Neither brother would've guessed she could raise her voice like that, but that boom seems to reverberate through the small trailer, silencing all three guests. Even her granddaughter looks surprised. Rosa looks back at Sam, now completely ignoring that Dean even exists. "I thought she attacked my granddaughter." She looks remorseful.

Sam feels uneasy. He begins to wonder if this is more than just a curse.

"I thought it was unprovoked-"

"_A fost_!" she shrieks.

"_Tacere_!" Rosa booms out again. The granddaughter withers and sinks in on herself a little. Sam and Dean both flinch. Missouri's got nothing on this braud. When she again looks at Sam it's with such sorrow he can hardly stand to sit still. "I thought she wanted my granddaughter's life."

And he understands. "You killed her."

He can _feel_ Dean gearing up to argue, but stops him. "You didn't curse her… You sicked a _demon_ on her." All friendly pretenses gone. Sam's pissed. What the hell was the woman thinking? Pissed or not.

Dean is up to speed and is nursing his own anger. "You tethered a demon to a girl for getting into a bar fight?" His voice is real low.

Rosa doesn't answer. She just glances at her granddaughter who's looking just as guilty. "What have you done, child?"

Sam gets the picture. The girl came home screaming rape and her grandmother probably reacted the only way she knew how. "Which demon?" But it's done. There's nothing Rosa can do to undo the curse. Both he and Dean know this.

"Lamia."

* * *

**Ghostfacers Lair**

**W 96'th St**

**Inglewood**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Next day…**

"Lamia, a serpentine demon, born of Hecate and Zeus." Ed has bravely taken up the mantel as storyteller of the group. The fact that all the cyber geeks are listening with rapt attention is just an added perk. "A monster like any other," Isn't exactly what the book says, but Ed has taken some creative liberties. They are gonna exorcise her anyway. "Must first be…corporealized," He looks up to see if he's lost any of them with his big words. Except for Harry they look clued in.

"I don't think that's a word." the brunette – Ed forgets her name – whispers to Derek Barns like the college snob she is.

"Aherm!" Both look guiltily caught in the headlights. "Yes…" He keeps in character though it's a bitch with their constant smart-alecky interruptions. "Corporealized. Either by possession or summoning, the demon must out before it can be cast back into hell." Adding a few dramatic gestures. Harry is completely lost by now, but Ed doesn't linger. They need to stay focused. This is a long way from some measly ghost hunt. This is an actual monster.

One of the interns raises her hand. Ed forgets her name, but it's the mousy one, not the cute one. Not _Ambyr_. "Yeah, what if the demon like…attacks us?"

Harry moans loudly.

"Yes, well. That will be taken into account." Ed isn't aware of the incredulous face he's sporting. _Is she chewing her hair?_

But the damn intern re-raises her hand. "What if like…this Clara person like…_won't_ let us call it out or whatever?"

Harry moans again, impossibly conspicuous this time, though the intern doesn't seem to get it. Ed thinks some of the college geeks giggle. "She will." He looks around, wondering if there are any more questions until he realizes he'd rather not encourage the ditsy intern. He clears his throat to speak, but then simply turns and walks without a specific direction in mind. "Back to work!"

In the background, as he leaves the office, he hears Harry. "You heard him. Back to it."

* * *

**Non-descript motel room**

**Vernon**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Noon…**

"Lamia." Sam is running through the files on his computer. Some are scans of Bobby's books. Others are scans from various library books over the years. "We hunted a lamia before."

"Yeah don't remind me." Dean's going through the actual books. Mostly looking at pictures. "Wasn't the last one rather…" He searches for the right word.

"It wasn't an actual demon," Sam looks up.

Dean frowns. "So why the demonic omens now?"

"Well the one we hunted was just a monster like the rest of 'em."

Dean arches a brow and wonders when his brother got so jaded.

"But the root of the lore goes back to Ancient Greece."

"Yeah queen of something, right?"

"Libya, yeah…." Sam stares into nothing a moment. "Said to eat her children."

Dean grimaces. As if they haven't had enough morbidity lately. Now he's gotta hunt a baby-killer. Then suddenly he sobers. "That seems oddly familiar to me. Why?" He fully expects his brother to have the answer.

Instead he shrugs.

Dean scoffs and flips a page. "So the signs weren't from the curse?" Another recent realization.

"No," Sam agrees slowly. "So we're probably dealing with an actual demon."

Dean smiles. "Ah the good old days." Then sobers. "In spite of Crowley's orders though. That's going out on a limb, even for a demon."

"Maybe it's controlled by someone?"

"The only ones left are the gypsies and call me crazy but I doubt Mami Rosa's still lookin' for blood."

"Could be she doesn't know it." Sam's mind is spinning back on the silver pendants around the woman's neck. The one around her granddaughter's too, though it looked new.

"The jewels?" Dean offers.

"I think so. You remember if one of them stood out?" He looks up at Dean's incredulous expression.

"You're kidding right? The woman could've been wearing her mother's shrunken head in a chain and I wouldn't have noticed."

_At least he's admitting it_, Sam thinks. "Then we have to go back, find it and get it from her."

* * *

**SC Mobile Sounds trailer park**

**Vernon**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Afternoon…**

Mami Rosa sits back and reflects on her most recent visit from the two hunters. It's a long time since she's seen one, but she remembers him clearly. Last time was almost seventy years ago. When she was still living in her mother's carriage. Back when the world was still simple.

Their second visit was rushed. They came, claiming to want the token she used to control the demon. Mami Rosa told them she had no such thing, believing it to be true. Then the taller one asked about any jewelry she's inherited. She pointed out her amulets and necklaces to them until one caught their eye. To her surprise it was the fairer of the two who spotted it first.

The oldest in her collection. Passed down through generations from mothers to daughters as protection. A powerful charm and apparently so much more.

She gladly parted with it once Mr. Sam explained what it was. A curse. A lifeline to a demon that should have been spat into Hell centuries before.

But still she wonders. Will her descendants forgive her for trading all that power?

* * *

**Driving down W 96'th St**

**Inglewood**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Afternoon…**

Maura is driving her beetle down the road when it catches her eye. In the daylight the place looks imposing and grey, but the spirits alert her to the powerful effect it has on its environment. She frowns and pulls over, firm in her belief that there's something evil inside that building. Or at least traces of it.

She enters and sees several young people working on computers. Some running around. Two men are in their office, one is crying. The other is leering over him. But they're not the ones who drew her inside.

Her eyes drift to a group of young people at the other end of the room. They seem to be disconnected from the rest of the group. She counts four. "Hello?"

They all look up though only one of them keeps his attention on her. "Hi." He holds out his hand. "I'm Derek, what can I do for you?"

She smiles when the brunette beside him smiles quickly. "Well not really _me_." She looks at the four and back at the other group. "Might I ask what you're doing here?"

The young man smiles. "Sure." He gets up. "It's a shared office. _We're_" He gestures to himself and his colleagues. "-currently working with the Ghostfacers on a case of theirs." Points over to the rest.

"Case?" The spirits vibrate.

"Yeah, we're helping free this woman from a possession. A Lamia."

She doesn't recognize the word, but pales at the thought of a curse. "Not…demons?"

He nods, seemingly unperturbed by the whole thing.

She looks over everything. "Oh dear." Fear seizes her, chills her heart. "I think I need to speak to the one in charge."

Derek keeps his smile. "That'd be me. For the FreakyLinkers at least."

"Freaky…Linkers?"

"Yeah," He gestures around and two of them wave. Inside the office there's a loud shriek. The young man ignores it. "We work independently and most of the stuff _they_," He points to the men inside the office "have found, they haven't found at all. It's our work really. But we figure we let them line it up and shoot it once it gets good."

"Shoot?" Her heart is pounding. What is this place?

"Yeah," He points to a disassembled camera on the table. Mimics the motion. "Shoot."

"Ah," She nods, not really any surer. She's clutching her jacket close to her chest. Then an image on the computer catches her eye. "Well then _that_ won't help one bit." It's an image of a circle of heather on the ground. "Any spirit strong enough will walk right over it."

Derek arches a brow. "Really?"

"I can show you how to make a circle more powerful than anything." Maura declares, feeling quite certain she can.

"How?"

She smiles. "With _love_."

* * *

**Ghostfacer's Lair**

**2156 W 96'th St**

**Inglewood**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Moments earlier…**

Harry storms into the warehouse like he's got a bad case of the runs. "Ed, we gotta talk." He storms right past him into the not-so-private office and slams the door before Ed is even inside. Forcing him to reopen and reclose it.

"What-"

"We have a- a _real_ problem."

He frowns, a little afraid to ask again.

Harry is pacing. "So this morning when he came in Spruce noticed we were out of Cheetos and so he wanted more because he can't work without Cheetos as you know," He's getting winded now. "-and so he asked- he asked,"

"Breathe, Harry." Ed points to the office chair and worries over his near hyperventilation.

"So-so-so-so-"

"_Breathe_, Harry."

He draws a deep breath, gaping, sits there a moment, lets it out and continues. "So Maggie goes out to get some at that Asian store just down the street-"

"Skip to the good part." Ed urges.

"There's no good part, there's no good part…Oooooh God, we're so screwed, we're so screwed. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit-"

"_Harry_!" Okay so Ed's freaking out a little as well. "What. Happened?"

"She saw them." Harry's found a plastic bag from somewhere and is breathing in and out. _Rattle smack rattle smack rattle smack rattle smack_ it says as he in- and exhales.

"Who'd she see?" Ed is vaguely worried he's gonna pass out and is surreptitiously looking around for a paper one. _Rattle smack rattle smack_.

_Rattle_. "The Winchesters." _Smack_.

Ed stops his search and stares. Harry keeps breathing. A little slower now. "What?" He rips the bag away, because really he shouldn't be doing that with a plastic bag in the first place. Kids suffocate on those.

"She saw them, she swears she saw them." he fires off.

"Okay, okay. Easy." Not really addressing Harry anymore. Ed is looking for something. Doesn't know what. A gun to blow his brains out with before douchebag One and Two do it themselves? "Did they see _her_?"

Ed has gone still without his bag. Just shakes his head. "We're dead." His voice ups in pitch.

"No we're not." So does Ed's.

"Oh god oh god we're _dead_!" The last word is practically a shriek and Ed slaps him. Harry cups his blushing cheek, damn near crying. Looking at Ed like he's a stranger. Everybody outside the office is staring in.

Ed ignores them and points his friend in the face. "You hold yourself together. Doesn't matter they're here. Probably not even related to our Lamia-"

"Oh god I didn't think of that."

"Harry!" The bark has him on the verge of tears. "_Focus_."

Harry nods, mum.

"We do our research. Keep a low profile." He's nodding, thinking to himself it's a good plan. Looks out the small window that faces the street, but which is way too high to actually see out of. "From now on send the interns out if we need anything."

Until this is done they'll stay inside. Call Clara to them when they're ready to deal with the Lamia. Still gotta find out if it's already corporeal or if they have to summon it. Gotta figure out how to keep it secure while they exorcise it.

Right then intern number two knocks on the door. The cute one, not the boring, stupid one.

_Ambyr_….

"Hey, Ed." She smiles though it looks a bit forced.

Ed doesn't really mind either way. Harry's making a suspicious sucking noise and when Ed looks down he sees he's got his thumb in his mouth. "Can we talk outside?"

"Sure." She leads the way. She's holding papers and stops in front of Ed with a very serious face. "So I think I found a way to kill the Lamia."

Ed brightens. _Finally!_ Something's going to plan. "Yes! How?" If only he could touch her without being awkward.

She smiles, seemingly relishing the praise. "Well Derek showed me this site dedicated to this weird Greek stuff-"

"Skip to the centerfold, blue-eyes." He makes a shooing motion, annoyed that she's on first name basis with the geeks.

"Oh, right." She clumsily flips a few pages over and drops some of them on the floor. "You can kill it with a silver knife."

"Simple as that?"

"Yeah," She flips through some more papers, dropping more in the process. "And you have to burn it once you're done." She hands him a page.

"Rosemary?" Salt too, but still. He huffs through his nose. Of course. He has no idea, but of course it's rosemary.

"For luck." she supplies with a smile.

_Is she into me?_ Suddenly the hunt seems less important. He smiles back.

Realizing what she's doing, she sobers and draws back. "Anything else?"

Ed draws back as well. _Figures_. "No. Thanks." And she's off like a greyhound at the track. He sighs as he watches her go. Hips bouncing. Jeans hugging her ass.

"Ed!" Maggie cries.

He rolls his eyes. Can't they for once do something themselves? But despite that he worries when he sees Maggie hurrying over to him. She looks pissed. "The geeks are cooking something." She angles her body so Ed can see the strange woman talking with them. Glances at the office where Harry has gone from sucking his thumb to curling up in a fetal position and rocking himself.

Ed ignores her. "Well well who's this now?" He strokes his beard. Can't just one thing go right? He walks over with Maggie in tow. From across the room Spruce and his boy-wonder-camera-savvy intern have noticed the commotion and are obnoxiously staring.

They all look confused when Ed and Maggie barge into the conversation. Well except for the Derek guy. He's always smiling in that weird way. "Oh hey, guys."

Ed holds up a hand to silence him. "Who do we have here?" He tries to sound menacing and by the worry on the woman's face he feels successful.

"Hello," She smiles, trying to placate her obvious intrusion into his lair. Sometimes he wonders if it's not worth the humiliation going back to his mom's garage.

"Who are you?"

"I-I'm Maura." She reaches out to grab his hand, but he crosses his arms.

"U-huh and what do you want?"

"Well Maura here seems to know a lot about protection against angry spirits." Derek happily supplies. God he's like a golden retriever. "Said she'd hook us up."

Maura looks confused, but doesn't answer.

"How?" Ed is intrigued. She thinks she knows better?

"Uh, a protection circle on the floor. Th-three actually."

"Uhm, the floor?" Ed says and looks around like his disbelief is obvious. It should be. There's no vacant space anywhere. He wonders how she can't comprehend that. What? She expects them to move stuff?

"Yes," Maura agrees in relief. A more observant woman would have shrunken from his glare.

Ed sighs and looks around. "Where do you suppose we draw it?" Tables everywhere. Computers on half of them.

"How about there." Derek suggests and points to a cluttered area in the corner.

"But there's no room." Maggie says emphatically. Ed can't help but feel a little proud.

"So make room. Get the interns to throw it outside." the geek suggests.

_God, will the humiliation never end_, Ed thinks as he sends a glare heavenward. "Fine. I can't deal with this." He turns and strides back to the office, intending to get a cup of hot cocoa for Harry. He doesn't like coffee.

* * *

**Southbound on W 96'th St. **

**Several hours later…**

"Whoa." Sam mutters as they pull the car up next to an old warehouse. Lights are on, but it's deep inside the building or weak lighting. Either way it doesn't matter because the only lights that hold Sam's interest now are the ones on the EMF meter in his hands. He sees a bunch of old furniture placed out front before he looks at Dean. "That seem odd to you?" He doesn't really trust the EMF meter anymore since it's been flashing all over the place lately whenever he uses it. The visual oddity helps.

Dean slows and eventually stops, casting a look at Sam that kinda says it all.

* * *

**Inside the Lair things are quite different…**

Harry has stopped screaming. The geeks are still filming tough it quite obviously isn't safe. Ed is holding the knife, intended to kill the Lamia that never actually showed. Clara is lying on a table inside the chalk circle. The one meant to keep her and the Lamia inside. They were kinda hoping they could summon the demon, but it doesn't seem to want out.

On the table Clara is seizing. Her muscles pulling together and rippling in ways Ed has never seen before. Not even in movies. Her boyfriend is screaming at them all to _do something_. Lights are flickering and the temperature is steadily dropping.

Ed isn't sure what exactly the boyfriend wants them to do. Looks more like Clara needs a doctor than an exorcist.

On the sidelines the geeks are calling out to each other. Speaking in some weird code, talking about rites and salt. Ed wants to shout at them that it isn't a ghost, but a demon. Right now, though, he can't find his voice.

The interns are everywhere. The stupid, mousy one took off when the phantom winds began blowing ten minutes ago. Probably the first smart thing she's done all her life, and Ed kinda wishes he'd followed her example. But a part of him can't help thinking _I caused this, I caused this_ over and over and it's really getting to him.

Then out of nowhere Clara settles. The lights settle. The phantom winds settle. Everything just kinda…stops.

And then _they_ appear.

Ed sneers without being fully conscious of it. Even Harry stops screaming to glare. "_YOU!_"

The Ghostfacers all recognize the new arrivals – well all of them except for the two interns who still remain, Spruce's nerdy one and _Ambyr_….

Of course none of the geeks know what's going on though several of them were looking mighty twitchy _before_ the douchenozzles appeared.

Sam and Dean stop when they take in the scene. Having snuck all the way through two, very dark and very spooky halls has them both a little on edge. Understandably. They're both holding their guns out. "What the…" Dean looks over the somewhat familiar faces with somewhat familiar traces of real anger appearing "_You_." And his voice dips real low.

Ed swallows, but Harry seems to have found some second wind. He even approaches slightly. "No. No way!" He waves a hand wildly.

Ed doesn't really think they'll shoot them, but some part of him can't help but question that rationale. A tiny voice going, _you sure?_

"This is _our_ job. No way are you stealing it like you did last time." Harry screams. Spittle squirts out.

"We _stole_ the last one?" Dean asks his brother incredulously.

"Spruce, get the computers!" Harry screams.

Their somewhat overweight cameraman galvanizes into action to save the delicate technology from whatever doohickeys the Winchesters brought with them this time. Hopefully he's remembered to back everything up.

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean holds up both hands and enters the room. Glaring when that Derek guy points a camera on him. "Everybody _stop_ what you're doing!" He points at Spruce, freezing the Shamanologist in his tracks.

Then his equally deuchy brother takes over. "Shut the cameras down." He points to Derek and the other geeks, and – adding spice to his order – barks: "Now!"

Three cameras flinch down. Maggie's backed away slightly, inching towards Harry. _Great_, Ed thinks, _now her thing for him's gonna flare right back up_. "Harry!" he cries for no specific reason.

But Harry's clueless. "No. _No_, Ed!" His voice shrills. He points at Sam. "Not this time!"

"What?" Sam asks calmly, holding out his arms, loosely fingering his gun. He's acutely aware that there's a young woman half unconscious not seven feet from him, but has no idea what the situation is. All he knows is that they still have the upper hand – however slight it might be. "Look, guys. We're not here to take anything from you."

He's going for that fake friend thing he tried the first time, but Ed's not falling for it. Neither is Harry.

"Yeah right."

And he's totally with his friend on that one.

Dean has circled the room with his gun. Smoothly bypassing all the cameras and turning them off as he goes. Ed notices, but neglects to tell him about the camera pod and cctv that's recording everything from the corner of the room. "What's going on?" he barks in that overly masculine voice of his.

"This is _our_ gig!" Harry looks pissed.

Sam intervenes. Both hands up. "Whoa look, we just wanna help." He suddenly sees Maura in the corner. "You?"

She flinches back, hugging her ugly jacket around herself.

He frowns as if he's privy to more information than the rest of them, but just can't piece it together. Ed huffs. "So much for the perfect ghost hunters."

Dean glares and really, Ed thinks he might just catch that bullet after all. "You're doing an exorcism on a girl who's not possessed." He hollers. Royally pissed by now.

Ed frowns while Harry takes a more verbal approach. "Ha! She _told_ us she's possessed."

"Yeah and the gypsy that cursed her told us the name of the demon." Sam explains pedantically. Fine line between possession and haunting and yet the Ghostfacers have failed to come up with a proper ritual to purge Clara of either state. What they're doing is just sloppy.

"We know," Ed inserts. "Lamia."

Dean frowns, the sobers, then looks downright freaked. "So you're doing an exorcism without any kind of protection?"

"We drew a circle." Maggie supplies.

Then Maura steps forward. "It-it's a protection circle."

"What? A Wiccan one?" Dean mocks.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." Harry sasses. Ed is beginning to understand what their problem might be, but still can't quite figure it all out. But the fact that the Winchesters are here says a lot.

"Look," And yet he's compelled to protect everything they've built. "We know you might not believe this, but we're supposed to do this." It's their job to help.

"Do what?" Dean barks.

"Why?" Sam asks. He's only now taken his eyes off Maura.

"Because we were chosen." Ed finishes. He knows what he next has to say will render them speechless. Probably disbelieving, but definitely speechless. Though he never gets to finish when Clara suddenly screams. She starts bucking on the table, throwing her limbs about.

Todd rushes to her, chorused by shouts from both deuchnozzles to stop. He crosses the circles and touches Clara. The second he does he's propelled back with a force so strong it bends him in half. He slams into the back wall and falls to the floor without a sound.

Then a horrible screaming reverberates through the room. Shadows rise up from the floor. They build up until they cover floor to ceiling, reaching out of the walls. It's terrifying. Kinda smells like rotten eggs.

Harry screams along with Maggie and Spruce. The geeky-linkers have gone surprisingly quiet and are back to busily filming the event.

Sam watches the demon advance on Clara and pulls out the amulet Mami Rosa gave him. Holding it high in front of himself, he starts chanting. "Regna ter-" is as far as he gets before he's flung through the room. Claws nipping at his skin, ripping the amulet from him in the process. It skids over to the Ghostfacers and Dean can practically _hear_ the whole plan going down the drain. And so, with one chance left, he makes a choice.

"Ed, get the amulet!"

Ed looks up at him in complete shock.

"Lamia is tied to the amulet! Get it-"

Ed slides over and picks it off the floor, feeling the power flow through him. He's finally a real hunter. He holds it up, not really sure what else to do when Lamia sees him. Her smokey outline pulls away from Clara and her vicious claws slice through the air, coming for Ed. He shrieks, and does the only thing he can think of.

Dean sees it in slow motion.

Ed throws the amulet down and steps on it. Lamia screams as if in pain, but Dean knows it's anything but. His heart stops. "_No_!"

Ed is smiling when he looks at him. Then a second passes and he notices Dean's incredulity. "What?"

"The amulet was controlling it!" And Dean is really, _really_ pissed now. "You IDIOT!" He charges the shotgun just as Lamia is fading. He knows she won't leave. She'll come after Mami Rosa – and probably every living relative of hers – in her own time. But first she's gonna want to eliminate the immediate threats. Meaning him and Sam. "The amulet was the only thing keeping her here!" The only thing keeping it disembodied. He can't begin to describe how angry he is.

Ed is looking more than a little freaked out. Harry looks about ready to hurl. Spruce is filming. Dean wonders if he thinks he'll slide by unnoticed if he just stays behind the camera. Finally he reaches Ed and picks up the pendant from the floor.

It's completely shattered. The inside of it is riddled with symbols which is probably why he didn't notice it before. He wonders how the hell Sam did. Thinking of his brother, Dean turns and sees he's still down for the count.

He begins to move over to check on him, but stops when Clara unexpectedly sits up on the table. The kind of comic way vampires sometimes rise from their coffins. Dean frowns as she turns, looks at every person in the room until she stops on Ed. She smiles, softening her features. "Thank you." Her voice sounds hollow, but that might just be the ambiance in the room, Dean thinks. Or he would if he didn't know better.

"Christo."

She winces as her eyes turn black. "Hunters," she hisses, and Dean has to remind himself she's been away from hell since before he was born. It's been a long time since a demon didn't recognize him.

Instantly the geeks start screaming.

Still a little perplexed, he lines up the shotgun, but has it knocked out of his hands a second before he's flung into the wall next to Todd. Hard enough to daze him and bruise his back. More screaming, but he can't really find it in him to care beyond the _pain_.

Lamia stands and easily crosses her chalked prison. Dean could've told them that would happen. Didn't these yahoos learn anything from last time? He sees the fuzzy image of his brother, walking back into the fight with Lamia advancing on Ed and his team.

All of them filming, still. _Morons_.

"Regna terrae-" Sam wheezes out before he's tackled by the demon. She knocks him over and straddles him. Dean hears his shout of pain and tries to get up. Then something unexpected happens.

"Is it the Rituale Romanum?" a British, black chick shouts over the noise of Lamia's cursing, Sam's struggles and the Ghostfacer's screams.

Dean can barely focus on her, but nods, and without pause she starts rattling the thing off like she's done it a million times. Lamia is flung off Sam by some unseen force and starts shaking inside her host. When the British chick stutters, Dean jumps in. Words slightly slurred through the concussion he's pretty sure he has.

Lamia bucks. Clara's skin looks like it's sizzling, but he doesn't stop. He gets up, huddled over the middle, bleeding liberally from the head. Right around the last verse the British chick gets back into it, this time chorused by her three friends.

The five of them advance, but Dean is doing it solely to push Lamia away from Sam. Sam's who's writhing on the floor. Trying to crawl away from the epicenter. At least he's not still, Dean thinks. Small favors.

With a boom the demon pushes out of Clara and fizzes off into little sparks as it rushes back to hell.

He stumbles drunkenly over to Sam and lays a hand on his back. Sam flinches when he does, but Dean doesn't move. "Sam," he mutters. "Sammy?" He thumps down on the concrete floor. Behind them Todd is waking up, probably sporting some pretty serious head injuries of his own. Clara looks dead, but Dean knows how that can sometimes fool you when demons are involved.

Sam rolls to his back, breath coming out in wheezing pants. "You-" wheeze. "OK?" wheeze.

Dean nods and nearly falls over. "Yeah-" and inhales through his nose. He looks up at the Ghostfacers who have all gone deathly still. Then back at Sam. "'u?" He feels like he's on a ship. Everything rocking away. Pushing his stomach contents up.

Sam curls in on himself, nodding. The grimace and subsequent whine has Dean thinking otherwise. "Y' need hs'ptl?" His mouth feels wooly.

Sam shakes his head and pushes up, leans heavily on Dean. "No." he grinds out through very tightly gritted teeth.

Dean falls over when Sam puts more weight on him and makes them both lose balance. Dean's shotgun is still in his hands. Would be funny if not for the pounding in his head. He looks up again, thinking there's something he's forgetting. Sees the camera pod in the corner and takes aim. Fires once, but misses.

The nerds scream, but Dean doesn't care. He aims again, this time taking his "slight" vertigo into account.

"Dean?" Sam moans, asking what the hell is going on.

Dean ignores him. Fires. Hits. Camera parts explode in a little circle around the pod. He smiles, beyond satisfied. He slumps back and looks up at Ed who's staring at him with disbelief.

"What the hell?!" Harry shrieks.

Dean fails to notice all the cameras being hidden behind backs by the Ghostfacers and FreakyLinkers. For the moment he's satisfied. "Wut? Y' think I fergot?" Harry and Ed both look too shocked to answer.

"We need to get an ambulance here," one of the British chick's friends say. Then addresses Dean – or maybe Sam, he isn't sure. "You alright?"

Dean looks up and sees two of him. Vaguely remembers him holding a camera, but can't piece it's current non-existence together with Derek's hand behind his back.

"M g'nn hurl." The word alone sets off an involuntary reaction where he actually does hurl.

Ed cries out and Dean thinks he might've gotten him a little. Smiles. Hacks and spits. Passes out.

* * *

**Non-descript motel room**

**Vernon**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Time unknown…**

He wakes up sometime later in their room of the week, to his brother sitting next to him. Breathing heavily. "Y' 'kay?"

Sam flinches, but smiles. "Yeah. You?" He starts breathing a little slower, but still has those damn pain-wrinkles around his eyes.

"Been better." Dean growls and tries to sit up. Which turns out to be a big mistake when the urge to puke returns. A bucket is pushed under his face and he retches. When he's done he falls back, so tired he can barely stay awake.

"No, no. Not yet." The disgusting bucket is removed and Sam's voice is insistent. "I need the usuals."

Dean groans, because really, right now he's not so sure he can remember them. "D'n Winch'ster." He opens with the easy one. Ticking off on his fingers. "Obama up fer rellec-" Inhales through his nose. "_Re_-election." That word almost choked him off. "Bobby's still dead, Leviathans runnin' free." He's still ticking off, completely missing Sam's flinch at the mention of Bobby. "And the damn Ghostfacers almost got us killed…_again_."

A gentle clap on his shoulder has him drifting back to sleep. "Good job."

* * *

**Still at the motel in Vernon…**

Waking up for the umpteenth time after that first one he feels better. It's dark outside, but Sam is still sitting next to him. "You doing up?" He frowns past the headache and gladly accepts the Tylenol and water.

"Standard head injury, man."

"How long I been out of it?"

"About a day." He sounds tired. In pain.

"You ok?" he asks again, because with each 'fine' he feels like there's a 'but' coming.

Sam smiles. "Been better."

Dean nods and pushes up. Ignores the pain in his back. He's done sleeping. Wants to get a move on, but is wondering if it would be wise of him to drive. "You feeling up to leaving?"

Sam hesitates for the barest of moments. "Actually I want to make sure everything's taken care of before we do." He looks over. Dean pauses his ascent.

"What everything?"

"The cameras in the Ghostfacer's office." Sam frowns, but it's laced with mirth. "You shot one of them, remember?"

Dean pales. "Of the Ghostfacers?" It's scarily thrilling.

"No," Sam hurries to say. "A camera. But there were others. I wanna make sure they can't post anything with our faces on it."

He waves him off. "Frank'll take care of that." Rolls out of bed. Wavers slightly. Waves Sam down when he makes to get up. "Gotta wee." He swallows thickly and enters the bathroom, breathing through his nose.

From the bedroom Sam calls, "Yeah but I'd rather make sure."

"Kay." Dean dizzyingly agrees, swaying in front of the mirror. He never even suspects Sam's ulterior motives.

* * *

**Ghostfacer's Lair**

**2156 W 96'th St**

**Inglewood**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Midafternoon…**

They're still clearing away all the shit that was ruined during the exorcism when the douchebags return. And it's been over a day. Really, how much can two men fuck things up?

"Well if it isn't the assholes." Harry announce when the two of them come limping in.

The FreakyLink geeks get all concerned looking. Even Spruce and Maggie look a little worried. Ambyr quit, though oddly enough Spruce's guy is still here. And of course Harry couldn't care less. Ed is kinda with him on that one. No doubt they've come here to gloat.

But at least there's no inconspicuous duffel bag this time.

"We just wanted to make sure everything's alright." Sam says.

Ed thinks they're both walking a little unsteadily, but pushes it back. He refuses to feel bad for these assholes. He stops what he's doing. "Yeah. As you can see we're all fine."

"And Clara and Todd?"

He deflates a little. "They're alright. We called an ambulance after you left."

He nods. Dean is looking around. "So where're the tapes?"

Spruce springs into action. "Oh no. No way." Shaking his hand as he advances. "You're not getting a preview _this_ time."

They don't look perturbed. Sam's looking at the computers. "Nice equipment." He nods.

Harry slides in front of it as if his hobbit sized body could stop Sam-the-behemoth if he really wants to get at it.

"We don't need your help." Ed says. He's tired, sore and really just wants to go home and sleep.

"Yeah, we saw that." Dean sasses. He looks tired as well. Still pissed though.

"Where's uh, Maura?" Sam then asks, to the surprise of everyone, including his brother.

Ed shrugs. "She took off." Frowns. "Why?"

He shrugs. "No reason." Dodges an inquisitive frown from his brother.

"You should've listened to us," Ed continues when the two of them do nothing 'cept linger insecurely at the center of the room. "We could've figured it out ourselves." That earns him two incredulous expressions and, what he's sure, would've been a sarcastic comment from Dean. If not for the interruption.

"You sure you're alright, guys?" Derek Barnes – the bane of Ed Zeddmore's existence – asks worriedly.

Dean gives him a critical once over before he nods.

But Ed refuses to be deterred. "We were chosen to do this, you know?"

"So you said." Dean deadpans.

Ed's a little surprised he's remembered. "By an angel." he finishes as if Dean hasn't spoken at all.

That gets their attention. The room quiets. Dean's expression goes from pissed to confused so fast Ed almost misses it. It's Sam who answers. "What?"

Harry is smirking at Sam's stupid expression. "Yeah that's right." He's getting himself worked up again. Ed didn't figure he had that kind of stamina in him. "An _angel_ contacted _us_."

"It's true." Spruce supplies.

Sam and Dean share a look. Then a beat. "You think-" Sam mutters.

"Yeah-" Dean agrees.

"When?"

Though their voices are low Ed clearly hears the muttered conversation and instantly deduces a meaning. "You know about angels?" A piece falls into place.

"The one who found us is Castiel-" Maggie cuts in.

"Shh!" Ed can't believe her!

Both Winchesters look at him. Dean's the first to speak. "Damn," He growls. He turns, and paces. "Dammit."

Sam's gone real quiet. "When'd you see him?" He sounds full of awe.

Harry looks like he's finally back in control, having dug out that asshole gene that only rears its ugly head – at least in Ed's opinion – when he thinks he knows more than everybody else. "2009. Came to us in Ed's mom's garage." he says proudly. Maggie and Spruce are nodding in agreement. Spruce's intern looks confused.

"Fuck," Dean breathes out with his back turned.

"What did he say?" Sam still sounds amazed. Looks at Harry like he's glowing.

Ed takes over, as is his job when there's a story to tell. "He told us we were chosen." It's important both assholes acknowledge that.

"To do what?" Derek asks, and Ed could almost bash his head in for the interruption.

"He told us we were chosen to bear witness to the apocalypse."

The silence in the room is deafening. This is what he's waited for since first meeting the god damned Winchesters. Their respect.

Dean turns back to face him, then snorts. Sam giggles low in his throat – but honestly: _giggles?_ – and Dean lets out a real laugh, Sam right behind him. Soon the two of them are clutching their midsections, laughing so hard Ed thinks they might've had a mental breakdown when somebody wasn't looking.

"Wu- uhh, guys?" Harry mumbles and takes a step forward. Sam holds up a hand to stop him, pulls himself together and looks up. Wiping a tear off his face, the occasional, deep giggle popping up.

"S-s-seriously?" His shoulders are shaking. Dean is curled up halfway to the floor right behind him. Holding onto his shoulder for support.

"What?" Ed demands. Do they not take this seriously?

"He _found_ you?" Sam asks skeptically. Dean lets out a great guffaw and nearly falls down. Sam starts chuckling again. "In 09?" His chuckles rise to a ripple that shakes his chest.

Dean straightens and wipes a tear off his face. "Ahh-ahaa…" Another giggle. "I never thought that bastard actually _looked_ for you." He gently slaps his brother's arm. "That was right after-"

"Right after we found out about Chuck, yeah." His smile is dwindling, though that faint hint of amusement lingers on his face.

Dean lets out a last giggle then snorts. He stands a little taller and takes a step into the room. "He was worried we weren't gonna survive the apocalypse. He said something about…" Looks at Sam. "…a backup plan, but it fell through." He wheezes. "I never understood why, but h-h-he must've f-f-found you." He points and breaks down in yet another fit of laughs.

Sam is calmly smiling, breath hitching occasionally. Standing still as a statue as Dean leans on him.

Ed's mouth is open. He's aware of it being open, but he can't seem to close it.

Even that cursed Derek Barnes has gone quiet by now, but Sam and Dean aren't deterred. "Ah, that's funny," Dean mutters, sniffs and turns. Looking over the equipment on his way out with a wide smile still attached. "Well anyway, we just wanted to see what kind of gear you guys were rocking." Not even looking at them as he says it. Giving a salute on his way out the door. "See you soon, assholes."

And Sam is just standing there, in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. The easy expression gone. He seems to be deliberating something, then with a deep inhale decides and almost saddens. "If you guys want the truth about what happened read the books by Carver Edlund." He stares a moment at the floor before he nods to himself, deflates and walks out after his brother.

Ed looks at Harry. Harry looks at Ed. "Carver Edlund?" Both frown. Sounds familiar.

Then Spruce scoffs. "_They're_ the assholes." Harry and Ed look at him. He bends over and gets back to cleaning.

Harry and Ed look at each other and shrug.

* * *

**SC Mobile Sounds trailer park**

**Vernon**

**Los Angeles, CA. **

**Late afternoon…**

Dean wants to leave, but Sam insists they need to speak with Mami Rosa. Dean suggests pumping her trailer full of gas and Sam isn't totally sure he's kidding. "I'm just saying it'd be better."

"Dean, she's done. You saw it. We exorcised Lamia and broke her amulet. Should be over." They're walking through the trailer park. Sam feels oddly at home.

Dean growls. "Don't remind me."

Sam knows what he's thinking. It stings to know they flunked the actual exorcism. Only came through because of four complete strangers. "We need to talk to Frank."

"Yeah. Got a look at their firewall. Idiots left the manuals out. Looks like a standard Norton package." Dean's scanning the area, looking for the crazy gypsy girl. Just in case.

"Shouldn't be too challenging for him."

"Already called." And Frank turned out to have a laundry list of questions and comments. Some of which Dean didn't even understand. In the end they settled on deleting every mention of him and Sam along with any footage of the two.

"Wonder what they'll do now?" Sam notices Mami Rosa working outside in the sun. Weeding her potted plants, it seems, or maybe…packing?

"What're you talking about? Probably more of the same." Rosa still doesn't see them yet.

Sam frowns.

"Which was why I asked Frank to set up some kind of spy-thingy in their system to let us know if anything major comes up."

"What if they decide to go after the Leviathans?" The thought is truly frightening to Sam.

"Then we'll know and tell them to back off."

"They won't listen."

Dean frowns, glances over and smiles. "I see where you get confused," Sam glares at him. "When I say 'tell' I mean threaten."

The younger huffs, as is his way. Before he can answer they're standing in front of Mami Rosa, who's straightened to greet them.

Dean will never admit it, but he's kinda glad he won't have to kill her. "Hi there."

She even smiles, albeit a bit tiredly. "Hello." She pulls off her gardening gloves and shakes Sam's hand first. "How did it go?" She looks concerned, which will definitely have Sam hyperventilating to try and soothe her conscience any second now.

Though Dean likes her well enough he'll never stress about her. She was stupid enough to use a demon for vengeance. The little voice crying about Crowley and Ruby reminds him not to walk too tall. "Went well enough." He tries for a somewhat friendly smile.

"You sure?"

Sam succeeds, but he's always been better at this stuff. "Lamia's gone for good." he promises with yet another heartwarming smile.

Rosa responds and suddenly comes off to Dean as skittish for some reason. "Something wrong?" He frowns and can't help the surreptitious glance inside her trailer.

Her worry dies and a smile lights up her face. She looks younger than she did the last two times, Dean thinks. He wonders if the Lamia – or the ridding of said – has anything to do with it. "I'm leaving." Her smile widens to take in both of them. "My children have lives of their own." She picks up a flowerpot and puts it on the doorstep. "It was foolish of me to linger."

Something sad slips over Sam's eyes and affects Dean, as such things always do, but he hardly shows it. They both get it, he thinks. Though nostalgia has never been part of the Winchester-package it hovers dangerously close to melancholy and sorrow. Both things which are very _much_ part of the Winchester-package.

Dean smiles, though he's sure it doesn't fool anyone. "Still. Not so bad, living a nomadic life. Surviving off the land, driving around," He glances at Sam for some backup.

Instead Mami Rosa draws his attention back with a confused expression that could easily be real. "My daughter works in a bank. She's married to a dog-trainer. They have two kids and a golden retriever. What's this _nomad_ you speak of?" She folds her accent and almost makes Dean blush for some inane reason.

He glares his accusation at Sam. _What did I say?_ Sam snorts and turns to hide his smile. Dean blanches. "Wu-" He glances at his brother who's already heading away. "Just thought-" He gestures up and down the small woman. "What, with the clothes and all?"

"I work as a part time clairvoyant. The clothes are a costume."

A beat. "Oh!"

"Dean?" Sam calls.

He nods, studiously avoiding eye contact, pretending the sun is in his eyes. "Yeah, comin'!" Turns and races to the car.

As they drive away Mami Rosa smiles.

**The End**

* * *

**AN:** Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think.


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